


heavy from the hurt

by ohwhoopsiedaisy



Series: it hasn't been easy, darling [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010)
Genre: Chance Meetings, Childhood Friends, F/M, Freeform, Harassment, It's hard to make tags, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Just. It's Gotham. What do you expect?, Red Hood saves her, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Suri is just trying to live, Suri probably shouldnt get attached, Suri's mourning in her own way, and people suck, but nothing graphic, even though it's hard, there is violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhoopsiedaisy/pseuds/ohwhoopsiedaisy
Summary: Suri’s learned to live with no expectations.What can she say? When you’ve spent your childhood on the streets, tomorrow isn’t even a promise.But what happens when she’s saved by the new face in Gotham’s underworld, the Red Hood?No one expects anything from a ghost.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s)
Series: it hasn't been easy, darling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971028
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from "I Can't Carry This Anymore" by Anson Seabra

_“No! No! NO. Please!”_

Suri Mallory thought that she could handle anything and everything that life would throw at her. She’s endured living on the streets, starvation, back alley fights, infected wounds, deathly fevers, Gotham winters, and boarding school. She has the scars—physical, emotional, mental—to prove that whatever she is faced with, she can handle, she can fight, she will _survive._

This though.

Nothing could have prepared her for this.

_“You’re lying. PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE LYING!”_

Suri can’t say she’s been to many funerals but she knows a dead body when she sees one. She’s seen the aftermaths of fights, shootings, and substance abuse. She knows what someone looks like if they’ve passed in their sleep or if there was a struggle—knows what happens to a body when there’s no more life to fight for.

Even for deaths Suri’s never seen before, the girl can imagine what they’d look like in the end. She’s seen enough.

What Suri never thought she’d know, ever _see,_ was what Jason Todd would look like.

_“Mr. Wayne! ALFRED!”_

Suri doesn’t know the details. They wouldn’t tell her—couldn’t relive it, but Suri’s smart. She manages to put the pieces together. She knows he was taken. He was beaten. Left for dead.

She’s seen the bruises and the blood.

It was a familiar sight, really.

They’ve both grown up on the streets, fought for their life. They’ve had their fair share of beatings, sleepless nights hoping the pain would just go away with time when they couldn’t patch themselves up.

Suri always thought Jason was invincible.

Always ready to fight again.

She guesses everyone has their limits.

No man can withstand a bomb.

Oh. _God._ A _bomb._

_“Jason! Jason, no! You can’t—!”_

Suri doesn’t realize that her legs have given out. She only registers that someone has grabbed hold of her, keeping her from _crumpling_ into the grass. She’s breathing in short bursts and her vision blurs.

_“C’mon, Jay. Wake up. It’s me!”_

The last time she saw him, he looked like he was sleeping. They’d cleaned him up and dressed him in a nice suit, the kind that he used to always complain about, tugging at his collar. Suri knows he’s not sleeping. He would be curled up if he was, so used to fitting into a small space.

_“Open your eyes. JASON.”_

Suri can’t get up. It’s too heavy. There’s this weight in her chest that makes her feel like she’s dying, like her life is so intertwined with Jason’s that her body feels the need to _shut down_ now that he’s gone.

She thought it was a heart attack the first time it happened. She’s read about it before, it’s rare, but has been known to happen with people her age _._ She was scared but for a second, just a second, thought to herself that maybe it was okay, that this was supposed to happen. She’d thought she was going to do the one thing she’s done her entire life—follow Jason.

_“You can’t leave me behind, Jason. You promised!”_

They’re lowering the casket into the ground. Suri’s losing sight of it—of him now. The hand on her arm is keeping her up but she shakes it off. She staggers when she takes a step, the weight is keeping her here, unmoving, unable to get to him.

All she’s ever done was follow him, go after him, look for him. Even when they were separated, they’d find their way back to each other, _it’s what they’ve promised,_ but now he’s gone somewhere she can’t reach.

She can’t _find_ him.

Although it was Bruce Wayne who got her out of the streets and the Wayne Foundation supported her all throughout her schooling, Suri’s always been closer to Alfred. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to intrude on his relationship with Jason, but Suri always found herself messaging Alfred every time she needed someone to attend parent teacher meetings and family events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is my second attempt at writing a Jason Todd fic and I hope I'm better prepared on tackling this story than I was 3 years ago
> 
> (Long story short. I posted a JTxOC fanfic on my old account and abandoned it after two chapters. yikes)
> 
> Suri Mallory is a character that's gone under a lot of revision-is still going through some changes, if I'm being honest-and I hope that with each chapter, we get to know her a bit more.
> 
> Although she's an OC, I try not to elaborate too much on how she looks like so that you can picture her however you want. (Old habits from writing Y/N fics on tumblr haha)
> 
> ((I do know how I imagine her to look like so if you'd want to know, just tell me haha))
> 
> The story is set to roughly follow the Under the Red Hood comic&movie but it's really mostly from Suri's POV so those plot points aren't really elaborated on.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this short bit and I hope to see you in future chapters!
> 
> I only own what I own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Five years later**

If there's one thing Suri learned from living on the streets, it's that laughter, especially men's laughter, is never a good thing.

She can name a couple of _incidents_ where she heard a man's laughter before something bad happened like being pulled by the hair, manhandled, forced against Gotham's grimy walls or thrown onto the ground, beaten and bruised.

It's been years since she's been out of the streets, she can even say she has a _home_ now, but the laughter, the laughter continues to haunt her. Her shoulder tenses at the sound and she prepares herself for the worst.

Unfortunately, she cannot deal with laughing men in the restaurant the same way she can on the streets.

"Ah! Princess, c'mover here for a sec," the man slurs, grabbing Suri's wrist, grip strong enough to hurt, and practically tugging her into his lap. She doesn't sit on him, of course. She's a waitress not some sort of _doll_ you can toss around but the men in this restaurant can't seem to tell the difference.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to—"

"Shh shh _shh_ ," the man says, finger nearly touching Suri's lips in his attempt to keep her quiet. Suri leans back as far as she can, not caring if she's being rude, and if she falls out of the booth, is that really a bad thing? "Just a _sec,_ I said. Ya can spare that for a customer, can't ya? Yer favorite? Good."

Suri's wants to find whoever said "the customer is always right" and have him sit on this bastard's lap.

"Let the girl go, ya oaf." One of the man's companions says, words coming out louder than necessary. He's leaning against another _buddy_ of theirs, this guy isn't laughing like the rest of them but the smile he's giving her doesn't make her feel any better.

"Shaddap, Greg, ya idiot," the first man— _Mr. Johnson._ Suri remembers his slimy face now—barks. "Tell Greg to shaddap, princess."

Suri looks at "Greg" and back to Mr. Johnson— _"David, princess, I told you to call me David."_ She must have made a face, scrunched up her nose in disgust, because the men at the table are laughing again, laughing even harder. She doesn't know what's so funny.

She never knows what's so funny.

"Princess?" Mr. Johnson's grip tightens and Suri wonders if she'll be allowed to leave if he breaks her wrist—a broken bone would be easier to deal with than this.

Oh. But how is she going to carry trays and wipe down tables?

Double oh. Health insurance. She doesn't have that.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson," Suri tries to get her hand back. "I really have to get back to work."

Mr. Johnson doesn't seem to appreciate Suri leaning away from him, wriggling out of his grip. His men are still laughing, but they're no longer paying attention to them. One of them orders another round of drinks and chips. Suri hopes the chef spits in their salsa.

"I _said—_ "

"Excuse me," a voice cuts in and Suri barely takes in the red fabric of this newcomer's clothes before she's being wrenched away from Mr. Johnson. Mr. Johnson flails, losing his balance, and practically falls into the seat Suri was in. "My date's been in the toilet for some time and I'm starting to get worried. Mind checking up on her?"

"Ah. Of course, sir—"

"Great." Newcomer pushes her away towards the direction of the comfort rooms and Suri, knowing an escape when she sees once, makes her way there as quickly as she can, kitten heels silent against the sticky floor

Suri knows that she isn't going to find anyone—no one in their right mind would have a date in one of the, if not _the_ worst "family restaurant" this side of Gotham—but she still checks for feet behind the stalls because she isn't ready to go back out.

When she's sure she's alone, Suri takes a moment to fix herself in front of the mirror.

She takes in her faded lipstick, the black smudge of mascara under her eyes, and the hair falling out of her ponytail. She isn't quite as presentable as she should be but, really, there isn't anyone to impress and drunk men don't seem to be able to tell so she simply smooths out her uniform, checks if she still has a pen tucked into her apron's pocket, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand fall to her neck and she fixes the chain of her necklace, playing with the pendants for a second, shifting them from side to side, before tucking them back into her top.

"It's almost over," Suri tells herself even though she knows that's not true. She has papers waiting for her back at her apartment, a quiz early tomorrow morning, and when her last class ends, she'll be back in this hell hole.

But for the moment, just to encourage herself because no one else will, she tells herself "Just one more hour."

…

Suri hears the crash and the yells, the familiar noise of a fight—screams, cusses, and the sound of a body smashing into something, maybe the table, and lets out a sigh that seems to release all the tension in her body. She hates to say it but she's _used_ to this.

Hell, she's heard _worse—been in worse._

She no longer panics at the noise. It's just that. Noise.

Instead, she thinks about whether or not her boss will be pissed if he finds out she's been hiding in the restroom instead of _dealing with that goddamn commotion._

Suri considers her options for a second longer and decides that she doesn't feel like having her pay docked.

She'll just leave the restroom slowly.

She'll tell her boss that she _was_ going to help but by the time she got there, the problem has already been dealt with.

Hopefully.

She's taking the smallest steps she can. In fact, she isn't even out the door yet.

Just…a…little…bit…

"Oh my god, Suri!"

Suri nearly slips back when she moves away, narrowly avoiding Emily when she bursts through the door.

"Emily!" Suri says, mimicking her co-worker's tone. "What's up?"

"What's _up_? Have you been here this whole time?"

Suri frowns. "No. I just had to…," she waves her hand in a way that hints at what she definitely wasn't doing but Emily doesn't know that.

"Oh. Well, your little pee break kept you from watching David—"

" _Ugh._ Don't call him that."

"—get his ass handed to him! He flew, Suri, I swear he did! This dude just hauled him into the air and smashed him through the table! Like _holy shit!_ I've only seen that in movies and, well, those superhero fights on Youtube." Emily's got a wild look in her eyes as she mimics what Suri can only guess is the "dude."

"How bad is clean up?" Suri asks, pushing past Emily to get back to the dining area. Last time a fight broke out, they had to deal with broken mirrors and picture frames. The restaurant's walls have been pretty bare since then.

"Just the one booth. The fight didn't last too long."

Suri takes in the wreckage. Emily was right, it seems like only Mr. Johnson's booth was damaged and the other staff have already gotten a head start with taking away the broken table and chairs. Suri tries not to smile at the "out of order" tape they have circling the damage.

"I can't believe he was able to break the table."

"What do you mean you can't?" Emily scoffs. "I always said their quality was shit and this just proves it. What kind of table can't handle a man's weight? You should see the table I have back at my apartment it can support two to three—"

"Ems. _Please._ "

"Prude _._ " Emily sticks out her tongue, her piercing glinting. "Anyway, the guys have that covered. We gotta get back to work."

Suri looks at the other tables and, to no surprise, sees that they still have customers eating and waiting, minding their own business.

Newcomer doesn't seem to be around anymore. She's just about to go after Emily, ask if she's seen anyone in a red hoodie (it was a hoodie, wasn't it? Maybe a button down? A shirt?), but there's someone sitting near the window, waving her over. Suri tries not to let disappointment show on her as she takes out her pen and notepad, her best customer service smile already on her lips.

Just one more hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should add that this fic is going to be slow burn. Like. Hella slow. (Or that's my plan. Who knows. Maybe even I'll get impatient). Suri isn't going to know Jason's alive for a good number of chapters and their relationship after the reveal?
> 
> Well, we're going to have to wait and see, don't we?
> 
> I only own what I own.


	3. Chapter 3

Suri is exhausted.

No particular reason why. It’s just her general state of being.

She was exhausted when she woke up, her body sore and eyes dry. She’s not sure she even fell asleep last night but the sound of her phone’s alarm roused her from whatever nightmare she’s managed to slip into in the wee hours of the morning and Suri was not happy. Dragging herself out of bed to shower and get dressed proved to be a struggle (Was the water pressure always this weak? What the _f—_ ) and Suri hates to admit it but finding out that her favorite sweater was in the wash just about ruined her already bad day. It’s not even eight am yet.

The bus ride to the university was exhausting. The memes and videos posted on her Psychology class’s page was normally a source of entertainment, especially the updates of one of her classmate’s kittens, but today, today’s just not a good day.

Today is— _Suri feels heavy; standing, sitting, lying down just feels so difficult. The food just makes her want to gag and the lights are too bright. Who is talking right now? —_ today is a challenge.

“—so use these last ten minutes to form your groups. Please email me your members and the topic you want to work on.”

Suri can’t believe Professor Choi would betray her like this. Attack her when she’s at her weakest. It’s her last class and this is the reward she gets for not going back to her apartment halfway through the day? And to think, Suri actually enjoyed History, liked learning about man’s mistakes and comparing them to the present day. She didn’t even mind the papers, the research.

What she does mind is that Professor Choi has given them a new project and, to Suri’s horror, he wants it done in groups. Suri is sure that Professor Choi prefers this method because he doesn’t want to check forty or so individual works but she doesn’t know anybody in this class and isn’t really fond of making _friends_.

The school year is nearly over, why start learning names now?

The sound of her classmates getting out of their seats to convene makes her jaw clench and she distracts herself by drawing spirals in her notebook. The repetitive motion of moving her pen around and around on the sheet of paper is almost calming and Suri closes her eyes to focus, zeroing in on the sound her pen makes rather than _chatter._

“Dani! Dani! Over here!”

“ _Bro. Me and you?”_

_“Bro.”_

“Oh! Oh! I know! What about—”

“I literally have no ideas. None.”

“Suri?” Someone knocks on her table, disrupting her spirals, and Suri looks up with a glare. Professor Choi’s brows shoot up in shock and Suri’s quick to relax her features, making herself look more miserable than angry.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Aren’t you going to find a group?”

Honestly? Suri would rather choke on an uncooked macaroni tube. 

“Actually, professor—” Suri is drawing spirals again. It’s tiring craning her neck to talk to this man. Why can’t he be like her Art Theory professor who likes to straddle chairs, arms resting on top of the backrest. “—for this, I was thinking that maybe—”

“You’ve worked on your own for the past two group works, Suri. You’re going to have to talk to your classmates at one point,” Professor Choi says, lightly fist-bumping her shoulder when Suri’s expression doesn’t change. Suri thinks he’s trying to encourage her. “They’re not so bad. I dare say that most of them are competent.”

…

There’s this group of students standing in the corner of the classroom, talking animatedly, arms swinging, phones being passed around. Suri doesn’t know what draws her to them but everyone else has rearranged the chairs to form circles around the classroom (what are they getting so comfortable for? The bell is going to ring any minute!) and Suri would hate to line them back up later so she avoids the seated.

“Hi,” Suri says, already hating this. Couldn’t they do this online? Professor Choi, get with the times. “You have room for one more?”

The boy closest to her—for the life of her, she cannot remember his name. Not even an initial to go from. He has freckles though, so she’ll stick with that—looks at the others before shrugging his shoulder. “Sure. Why not. Mallory, right?”

“Sure.” Suri says because he’s not wrong.

“Great. We were already discussing some topics that we’d want to research on. Mainly the costumed freaks that parade this city.”

Suri doesn’t want to say anything, she doesn’t really care what they want to research on, just that she’ll do whatever it is they want her to do to get this over faster, but Freckles is looking at her like he’s waiting for her to either agree or disagree with the topic.

“Who are we looking into? The Riddler? Mad Hatter?”

“What about the Batman?”

Suri turns to the source of the voice and is immediately distracted by the print of her shirt. The character looks gruesome and the text is illegible. She’s so busy trying to figure out just what it is the shirt is supposed to be that she nearly misses what the owner of said shirt says.

“I mean, he’s got the be number one, right?” Graphic-Tee lowers her voice and bends over slightly like what she’s about to say can incriminate her. The rest of the group follows her and Suri finds herself in some sort of huddle. “I think he’s the problem and not the solution to Gotham’s worst crazies.”

“True…We’re going to have to look into it,” Freckles says, nodding. “I don’t remember anyone like Scarecrow terrorizing Gotham before Batman appeared.”

“So…we’re looking into origin stories?” Suri asks, already regretting choosing to join this group. She’d hate to be hunted down by the Rogues if they caught wind of people— _students_ looking into their past. She shudders to think what Batman would do.

(Probably ground her. Alfred would let him.)

“I’m also quite curious about his sidekick. Robin.” Graphic-Tee pulls out her phone and on her screen is the Dynamic Duo. “Call me crazy but that’s a _child._ Why is Batman bringing children into the fight?”

It’s an old photo, a familiar photo.

Batman and Robin are in the museum, stopping the Riddler and his goons. Batman is mid-swing, using his cape to stun his opponent while Robin’s in the hair, leg extended, ready to land a swift and powerful kick. Suri wonders if anyone could tell that this Robin is entirely different, if they’d noticed that his fighting style is rougher, his blows with more force, _anger._

Suri hears laughter in her head, young and excited— _cocky,_ and feels sick to her stomach.

…

It’s getting harder and harder for Suri remain upright so she slouches over and places her forehead on the palm of her hand in an attempt to find her center so that she won’t fall out of her seat. The heavy bass of the music vibrates her chair, her drink, and she’s pretty sure she can feel it in her blood. Her mind feels far away, like it’s no longer with her, and Suri tries to see if she can still count how many fingers she has on her hand. She’s probably at six— _no,_ that can’t be right… six does not come after two… _maybe_ —when her phone’s screen lights up, displaying a message.

_From: A.P._

_Shall we expect to see you this weekend for lunch, Ms. Suri? It’s been quite a while…_

The message trails off, needing Suri to unlock to device to see the rest of it. She fumbles with it, nearly drops the phone, and is offended when it doesn’t immediately recognize her face.

“‘pparently, his name is ‘Red Hood,’” Emily says and when Suri turns to her— _whoa._ Bad idea. Center! _Balance!—_ she catches her trying and failing to get her straw back into her mouth with her tongue. Suri rolls her eyes at the attempt and guides the straw to her friend herself, although she does end up poking Emily’s cheek a couple of times before she gets it right.

It’s late, it’s always late when she’s with Emily, and all Suri wants to do is to go home and wrap herself in her favorite fuzzy blanket (the _only_ thing she’s allowed herself to splurge on) and re-watch some of her favorite rom-coms, but Emily says she’s had a shitty week (she and her both) and would just _die_ if Suri didn’t go out for drinks with her.

Emily’s always been a bit unpredictable and Suri doesn’t want to take the risk.

Plus. The drinks here are sweet. Really sweet. She should order another one.

“Who?” Suri pockets her phone.

“Jesus, _Soors._ D’ya even listen when I’m talkin’ t’ya?”

Suri shows off her customer service smile and thinks of a comeback, maybe she’ll say something about selective hearing but all that leaves her mouth is “No.”

Emily shoves her and it really is a miracle that Suri doesn’t fly off her seat.

“ _Rude._ ” Suri holds the table with an iron grip, pulling herself back to an (almost) upright position. She’ll get her back for this. She’s stronger. “Wait. Did you say _Red Hood_?”

“Well, bitch, I didn’t heckin’ say _Hey, Jude_. But yeah. Red Hood.”

“That can’t be good.”

“Huh? Why?” Emily asks before turning around to wave at the bartender. She asks for another drink, fluttering her long lashes.

Suri hears a laugh that haunts her dreams. She shakes her head like the physical action can actually shake the sound away. She can still hear it despite the pop music the club’s blasting—the laugh actually goes with the beat.

“Bad rep.” Suri looks down at her drink, feeling some semblance of sobriety. How did they get to this topic?

It’s been a few days since her History group agreed on a topic and Suri’s pretty sure she wasn’t discussing “Does Gotham need Batman? A comparative study of Gotham’s crime rate and severity before and after the appearance of the caped crusader” with Emily. The girl hates comparative studies.

“What were you saying about him?”

“Like I _saaaaaid,_ word on the street is that…that he’s in charge of the whole drug…drug thing. Thingy. Dammit. Fookin’ word— _trade_ now,” Emily says into Suri’s ear, making damn sure that Suri actually hears her this time, lips so close that Suri feels her shoulder rise on reflex. Emily’s words begin to slur together and Suri can only catch every other thing she says.

Something about heads?

“‘e said he’d proteh-tect the dealers from the Bat… Batsy…and…what’s his face—Black Mask.”

“Stop B-Man?” Suri pouts at her empty glass. When did that happen? “Doesn’t sound…sound like a good guy.”

Emily leans away from Suri, knits her brows together and looks up in thought. She looks like she’s about to say something but she tilts back a bit too far and Suri has to reach out to stop her from falling backwards. Emily lets out a giggle and raises her hand up like she’s in class, asking for another drink.

Suri asks for one, too.

…

It’s late, _really late,_ and Suri finally feels like her mind is back in her body. She also feels like she needs to pee. She has some memory of someone saying that water is supposed to help but she can’t quite remember if she was supposed to drink it in intervals or chug it all in one go.

Either way, she’s drank it, made Emily drink, too (“You suck, Soors. _Suuuuuuuuck!_ ) and somehow convinces her friend that it’s time for them to go home. It does take a while for Suri to get access to Emily’s phone, she never knew it would be so difficult to convince someone to _keep their damn eyes open_ so the phone’s facial recognition would work but she manages, somehow.

If Emily’s gets pink eye because Suri had to ask some stranger to help her keep Emily’s eyes open, well, that’s regrettable.

Suri only stops waving when Emily’s boyfriend’s (that’s what he was right? Emily called him her _exclusive_ friend with benefits. Suri called her stupid) car turns the corner and when she’s finally alone, she feels the weight of the week weigh her down.

Maybe she should call a cab of her own to bring her back to her apartment.

She pulls out the change she has in her pocket and holds in a snort at the amount she has left from paying Emily’s tab.

Suri’s always liked walking anyway. 

Walking is healthy. Walking is _free._

Walking is… huh… why isn’t she walking in a straight line?

Anyway, Suri can already see her sofa and her fuzzy blanket in the distance, in a thirty, maybe forty… sixty-minute distance (yikes), and braves Gotham’s streets.

A particularly strong gust of wind causes Suri to stop in her tracks. She rubs her hands up and down her arms and lets out a few coughs—this damn pollution—before she continues on her way. The noise of the club is long gone and Suri’s left alone with the noise of the city.

She hears the train in the distance, the honking of horns and gun shots.

Is it really Gotham City if there aren’t gun shots ringing in the air?

The noise is almost calming, like those expensive white noise machines, and Suri can feel herself relax, she might even start _humming_ , when laughter suddenly rings through the air.

What. An. Idiot.

One can never relax in Gotham.

She’s just about to run for it, go into the nearest open shop she can find—there! A 24-hour convenience store at the end of the street!—when someone grabs hold of her hair, pulling— _dragging_ her into a dark alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had this chapter ready for days but the moment I said "Hmm. Okay let's post it" I ended up rewriting the entire first half... why do I do this to myself =((
> 
> I only own what I own


End file.
